


Camp For Losers

by hypochondriacandatrashmouth



Category: IT (2017), IT stephen king, Losers' Club - Fandom
Genre: F/M, M/M, Modern AU, Pennywise does exist but he doesn't try to brutally murder anyone physically, band au, georgie is alive and well
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-14 06:08:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14764086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypochondriacandatrashmouth/pseuds/hypochondriacandatrashmouth
Summary: The Losers don't know each other yet. They hate each other at first. They meet at a camp and things don't go quite as they had hoped.





	1. Chapter 1

Richard Tozier glanced up from the road to his phone, which was propped against the instrument cluster. He was doing a livestream (it had been going on for half an hour now) and he had the radio turned on, playing a CD.

"So yeah," Richie said, "That's what I told him and then he walked out. Haven't seen him for about a week, now. But we're through, that's that."

Richie leaned forward a bit to read a comment that had flashed on the screen.

'so sry to hear that ricj hope ur ok' the comment read. Then a stream of similar messages flowed in.

Richie laughed and shook his head. "I'm doing great!" he assured, "Don't worry about me. Besides, he was turning into an asshat."

He thought for a moment, the sweet sound of The Police flowing from the speakers.

"Oh!" he exclaimed. "I forgot to tell you guys! I'm going to a camp! But not any camp. Oh, no! I'm going to a music camp!"

An explosion of comments came flying in, all asking him why he was going.

"I'm going because I damn want to! And because I want to improve my skills," Richie answered. There was suddenly another explosion of comments, telling him that he was being supported.

"Awh. I wanna cry! You guys are so fucking nice!" Richie said. "Anyway, that's where I'm headed right—WATCH IT BUD I'M DRIVIN' HERE—right now," Richie said. When he had shouted, he had honked the horn loudly, rudely, while screaming in a faux New Yorker accent at a passing Volkswagen van that honked back at him.

***

Beverly Marsh was driving to a music camp. She had the driver's side window of her Volkswagen van rolled down with her arm dangling out, a cigarette between her fingers.

Bev was the lead guitarist for her band. Her band was called Everyone Wants The Truth. She was going to the music camp to improve her skills, though it certainly was not needed.

Beverly sighed as she took a drag from her cigarette. She was looking forward to camp. She could meet other musicians who were into punk music!

The night before, she had announced to her band's fans that things were going to be a little different for the next two weeks, that she was going to be going to a camp. They were all supportive and wished her luck. And that camp is where Beverly was headed right now.

Her cellphone started ringing, causing her to sigh. She switched hands, the one holding the cigarette took hold of the wheel as well and her now-free hand answered her phone. "Hello?" she asked.

" _Hey Bev_ ," said the caller.

"Oh! Audra!" Bev grinned, "What's up?" Audra was the band's keyboardist and lead vocalist. She looked quite a bit like Bev: Red hair, fair skin. The girls' only differences are that Audra has a longer face than Beverly, Audra is taller, and people found Audra prettier than Beverly.

" _I was doing some snooping around and it looks like you're not the only 'big name' going to this camp,_ " Audra said, explaining her sudden call.

"Oh really?" Bev asked, then slammed her hand on the horn of her van, sending out a blare at a passing pickup truck.

" _Yeah. There's several going. It's all trending on Twitter and Instagram,_ " Audra replied, " _Some guy that plays guitar, I can't figure out what his real name is: Trashmouth, Records, or Richie. I guess the last one, but from his posts Trashmouth seems better-suiting._ "

Beverly groaned, "Nooo...Not Records Tozier!"

Audra gasped, " _You know who he is? How?"_

"You remember that gig we were supposed to put on back in my hometown?" Bev asked, and heard a quiet ' _yeah_ ' on the other end of the line. "And remember how it got cancelled because the place found a supposedly 'better group' called Records and Rebels or some shit like that?" Another mumble from Audra was all Beverly got in response. "That's the guitarist. I looked them up that night," Bev cleared up.

_"Oh...Well...Good luck Beverly. Please don't kill anyone. Just beat this Records guy's ass carefully."_

"Can't make any promises, Audra."

_"I know, and that worries me."_

***

Michael Hanlon had arrived at the musical camp early. He had not wanted to be late and make sure he got to the right place. He knew he was at the correct camp when he saw the giant stage in the middle of it all.

Mike set his luggage and saxophone case on the grass and pressed the lock button on his key ring, locking his truck. Mike was both excited and nervous about attending this camp. He was excited because it seemed amazing and helpful; he was nervous because there were going to be people here of different styles, sounds, and genres and that was going to clash dramatically– Mike knew this. He heard a voice and looked in the direction, seeing a man and a woman approaching him.

"Howdy-hey, there!" the woman said, smiling kindly at him.

"Hello," Mike greeted. "I know I'm early and signing in isn't for a while now. I'm sorry–"

"Oh don't apologize," the man interrupted with a chuckle. He was British, Mike could tell because of his accent. "You're just in time! Never too early." He held out his hand, "I'm the head director, Francis Goodman. You probably know me: I've been in several bands in my time, produced several bands. I was a big name in the punk rock industry for a while before pop got ahold of it."

Mike shook Francis's hand and shook his head. "I'm sorry, sir," he apologized, "I've never heard of you. I don't listen to a lot of punk."

"Ah," Francis waved him off, "That's okay. Everyone's got their own taste."

"Ehem," the woman beside Francis said. Francis released Mike's hand and stepped to the side. "Hi," she greeted with another smile. "I'm assistant director Melody Moore. I won't expect you to know me."

"Nice to meet you both," Mike smiled.

"You're too kind! Now, what's your name?" Melody asked.

"I'm Mike Hanlon, ma'am," Mike replied.

"There's no need for this 'sir' and 'ma'am' ordeal," Francis laughed, "We don't want to seem like an authority. We want to be your friend. Just call us by our names!"

"Yes, sorry, si– I mean _Francis_ ," Mike corrected.

"Now, the other campers should be arriving soon," Melody said, clapping her hands together. "We oughta get those sign-in sheets out."

***

Edward Kaspbrak looked over at his driver and mother, Sonia Kaspbrak. "Mom, are you sure we packed everything?" Eddie asked for the thousandth time.

"Yes, Eddie-Bear. I'm positive. You and I both quadruple checked all of your bags," Sonia nodded. "Do you have your second and third fannypacks?"

Eddie checked the bag in his lap and nodded, "Yes, Mommy. Both are in there."

"Are they both fill–"

"Both have tissues, medicine, Band-Aids, and disinfectant wipes," Eddie confirmed.

"And your second inhaler?"

"In my bag as well, Mommy."

"That's my boy," Sonia smiled.

After some silence, Sonia spoke up: "Are you sure you want to go to this camp, Eddie-Bear?"

"Yes, Mom. I need a break!" Eddie said.

"But there's going to be mosquitoes! And you're allergic to grass! What if you suddenly get hurt?"

"We checked with the doctors. I'm not allergic to grass anymore! I outgrew that allergy. And I remembered bug spray. I won't get hurt."

"But what if–"

"Mommy," Eddie said softly, placing a hand on her arm, "I'll be fine. I promise."

Sonia smiled sadly at him, then returned her focus to the road. "I just worry, Eddie."

"I know, Mommy."

Eddie had announced to his fans that he was going to be at a camp for a few weeks, so the backgrounds of his photos and videos will be very different, on Twitter. It had been his mother's idea, since she is also his manager, to announce his hiatus. His fans were very supportive of the idea of him going.

He looked out the window as they pulled up in the camp's parking lot, pulling up beside a truck.

***

Upon arriving at the camp, Stanley Uris suddenly became nervous. When he had pulled up in the parking lot, he was uncomfortable. The lines to separate each section for the cars were not straight; they were wobbly lines. And one end of the bar set up to show you you have pulled in close enough had fallen and was now resting on the ground. Stan had to take deep breaths to calm down before slowly parking his car.

He shut off the engine and got out of his vehicle, then made his way around to the trunk. He got all of his luggage and his violin case.

Stan Uris was the slowly-rising king of classical music. He kills it on his violin, and he had even tried out an electric violin once. There was not that big of a difference between the classic violin and the electric violin, but if you were like Stan you could hear a noticeable difference between the two.

When Stan looked up, he saw another vehicle pull up beside his and a boy stepped out. Stan watched, as subtly as he could, as the boy pulled some overnight bags out of the back seat. No instrument case, just luggage with clothes. Then Stan saw a boy who looked to be a few years younger than the first clamber out of the car.

"Billy! Hurry! I wanna introduce you!" the youngest boy said excitedly. The older boy – Billy? – chuckled.

"O-o-okay, Ge-Ge-George-Georgie," Billy stuttered.

 _So the little boy's name is Georgie_ , Stan thought.

***

William Denbrough's little brother, a middle schooler named George, had been going to this music camp for the past two years. George had invited Bill to come this year, just to check it out. Bill was excited, yes. But he was a bit nervous as well. When he was nervous, his stutter was worse than normal. He had been working to get rid of his stutter, but George claims to like his big brother's stutter and that it is one of the best things about him. The only time Bill does not have to worry about his stutter cutting in every word or so was when he was singing.

And since George loves and looks up to his brother, he decided to take up singing at the camp. He wanted to be just like his brother, of whom he loves the most out of everyone he knows.

Bill looked down at his brother, who was bouncing on the balls of his feet excitedly.

"Come on, Billy!" George said, grinning.

Bill laughed, adjusting the bags he was carrying. "Oh-oh-okay," he said, "I'm cuh-cuh-cuh-coming." He looked away from Georgie and met the gaze of a curly-haired boy that was staring at him. "Le-le-let's go," he whispered quickly to the middle schooler beside him. The Denbrough brothers walked off toward the sign in tables.

***

Benjamin Hanscom felt as though he was running late. He was on the camp bus, riding to the camp. He would have driven himself but the only car he had was actually his mother's, and she needed it to run errands while he was gone.

He looked at his watch again and sighed. The driver was slow. Ben wanted to shout at him to speed it up a bit, but he did not want to offend the man.

A little while later, they arrived at the camp and Ben grabbed his bags, one of which held his drum sticks. He joined the cluster of campers who were shuffling off the bus and going to rejoin with their friends from last year. Ben did not have any friends from this camp, since this was his first year.

He looked around once he was off the bus and saw two foldable tables with, who he was guessing, the camp directors seated behind them. The sign in station. Ben started in the direction when a taller boy bumped into him.

"Hey, be careful, my dude!" the boy said, lowering his hand from the air which was holding his phone. He saw what seemed to be messages starting to go up the screen on one side and random hearts flying up the other side. He had been livestreaming.

"Sorry," Ben apologized. "I was just heading over to the sign in tables."

"Same, dude," the guy said, then cocked his head to the side as a smile formed on his lips. "You look familiar."

"I do?" Ben asked. He should not have been surprised, as he was practically YouTube famous for his drum covers of popular songs. He does quite a bit of New Kids On The Block, since they were his favourite band.

"Yeah. You're Ben Hanscom, aren't ya?" the boy guessed.

"Yeah," Ben confirmed, nodding.

"Yeah yeah. You do those drum covers for shitty boy bands!" the guy teased with a wide grin, then held his hand up for a high-five from a passing girl with bright purple hair. She shook her head and walked off. The guy shouted after her: "YOUR LOSS, SWEETHEART! THAT WAS AN AMAZING JOKE!"

Ben turned away from the boy with wild black curls and ran off. How could he have said that to him?


	2. Chapter 2

 

Everyone was assigned cabins, all based on the genre of music they played and their gender (didn't want anyone getting pregnant on Francis Goodman and Melody Moore's watch).

"We will give y'all time to unpack and get settled in your cabins," Melody said into the microphone. "Your cabin numbers are on the papers we gave to you when y'all signed in."

Georgie Denbrough tugged on his older brother's shirt. "Billy! Are we in the same cabin?" the youngest Denbrough boy asked. Bill looked at his paper, then at his brother's, and he smiled.

"Yep."

Georgie grinned.

Melody dismissed everyone, but Francis ran to the mic. "WAIT!" he shouted. Everyone froze mid-step and turned back around to face the stage.

"There's one more thing, Melody forgot to tell you," Francis explained. He pointed toward a hill where an big, old, dark brown cabin stood. "You all see that cabin? Cabin number twenty-seven?" He paused, as if he was waiting for a response from the crowd of kids in front of him. "If any of you cause any trouble, you will be moved out of your cabin, and into Cabin Twenty-Seven for the rest of your time here. We don't care if a boy and a girl end up in a fist fight; they are going to share the cabin."

Everyone was silent. Some exchanged looks.

"No, I don't want heterosexual couples to start fighting just so they can bunk together. We'll know. Now, that's all I wanted. Have fun and _rock on_!"

The crowd started to stream toward the cabins, a little hesitant now.

Richie Tozier looked at his paper. "Cabin Two..." he read out loud. He looked around and saw a cabin further up the hill that had a brass number attached to the white post outside of it. To him, the number looked like a two. He headed toward the cabin and opened the door. As he stepped inside, he smelt... perfume? He looked around and saw about four girls staring at him.

"GET OUT! GET OUT! THIS IS A GIRLS CABIN!" one started screaming.

Richie took a step back. "Sorry! Sorry!" He was too embarrassed to crack a bad joke about him 'just wanting to beat some shitty pop artist at getting laid while at this camp.' "It was on my paper! Cabin two!"

"This is Cabin Five, dumbass!"

"What? No it's not!"

The girl who had been speaking, she had pretty blonde, wavy hair, and brown eyes, pretty fair skin, about average height for girls, but the boots she was wearing, Richie guessed, added about three inches to her height, pushed Richie out onto the cabin's porch. "Look!" she said, pointing to the post the cabin number was attached to. Richie complied, and his eyes widened. It was, indeed, not a two, but a five.

"Shit. I- I'm sorry," he said again. "Guess my pretty-woman-detector tried to steer me to you."

"Oh, fuck off, Records Tozier. I know who you are. I've heard of you."

"Oh! So you know me?" Richie grinned, leaning against one of the posts. "And who might you be?"

"Not interested, Trashmouth," the girl said, then slammed the cabin door shut.

He heard some voiced inside the cabin saying her name: "Good job, Brooke!" "Way to show him, Brooke!" and the like.

Richie sighed and straightened, then walked off to find his actual cabin.

***

Eddie Kaspbrak set his bags on one of the beds in the boys' Pop cabin.

"That bunk is taken," said one of the other boys in the cabin.

"Oh. Sorry," Eddie said. He moved his bags to the one beside it.

"So is that one."

Eddie moved his bags again.

"And that one."

"Are there any not taken?" Eddie asked, exasperated.

"That one," the boy said, pointing to the bunk bed beside the shower/changing room.

Eddie sighed and moved his bags over to the bed. "Has this bed been sanitized recently?" he asked.

"How am I supposed to know?" the boy retorted.

Eddie bit his lip and set his baggage on the end of the bed. "Oh God, please let this bed be clean," he whispered.

***

Beverly Marsh had tossed her baggage on a random bed in the girls' Punk Rock cabin. She flopped down on the flat-ish mattress and stared up at the bunk above hers. "Please don't fall and crush me," she willed aloud.

"It shouldn't do that if the person above you doesn't roll around a lot, or weighs six-hundred pounds," a girl sitting on the bunk across from Bev's said.

Bev sat up and turned, bringing her legs up to sit criss-cross. "You think I will?" she asked.

"Nah," the other girl said. Then she looked at Beverly and gasped. "Oh my God!" she exclaimed.

"What?" Bev asked, looking down at herself. "Did my shirt slip down?"

"No, it's just... You're Beverly Marsh!" the other girl said, slowly grinning.

Bev chuckled and nodded. "Yeah, I am." She looked at the other girl and got a good look at her – brown and lavender hair twisted up in a messy bun, dark eyes framed by long lashes and smudged brown and magenta eyeshadow, black lipstick painted her plump lips, and her face, her face is what gave her away – and it was _her_ turn to gasp. "Ashley LeFay!?"

"You know who I am?" the other girl, Ashley, asked with excitement.

"Uh, yeah! You're my idol!" Bev said.

"Holy shit. This is amazing because you're mine!" Ashley told her.

Both girls jumped up and ran to each other, embracing the other in a tight hug.

"Oh my God, this is amazing," Beverly whispered to her.

"I know," Ashley squealed. They pulled away from the other and grinned.

"You're the one who turned me bisexual," Beverly said with a laugh.

"That makes me proud," Ashley giggled.

"Can I take a picture to send to my band?" Bev asked.

"Of course! I will too."

The two girls got out their phones and wrapped an arm around each other and took a few pictures. After, they went to their social media apps and to their messages and shared the photos with the same caption: "I JUST MET MY IDOL, MY INSPIRATION, MY NEW BEST FRIEND."

***

Michael Hanlon walked into his cabin, making sure it was the correct cabin so he would not have to embarrass himself or any jazz girls. He looked around the cabin and saw there were only a few others. _Guess jazz isn't as popular as I thought_ , Mike thought to himself. He walked over to an empty bed and set his baggage down. He sat on the bunk and looked around the cabin. Three other boys walked in a few minutes later.

Mike turned to look at them and ended up making eye contact and one boy gasped. The boy nudged the other and whispered to him: "Dude, its Mike Hanlon!" The other boy looked Mike up and down and his eyes widened.

The boy grabbed the other boy's arm and hissed, "It is! It's HanlonJazz!" He fanned his face with his hand and said loud enough for Mike to hear: "I may cry."

Mike shot to his feet and hurried over to the two, his work-boots clomping against the wooden floor of the cabin. "Please don't cry! I don't want you to cry!" his said as he made his way over to the boys.

"He's walking over! What do we do?" one boy whispered quickly.

"Stand still," the other said.

Mike came to a stop in front of them. "Did I scare you? I didn't mean to scare you." he said.

"No- no," one boy said. "You didn't scare us... it's just..."

"You're Mike Hanlon, from YouTube!" the other boy said. He threw his arms around Mike. "I'm your biggest fan!" he cried.

Mike froze for a moment, then hugged the boy back. "Yeah, I'm Mike Hanlon," he said.

"I'm hugging Mike 'HanlonJazz' Hanlon!" the boy gasped. He pulled away from Mike and turned to his friend. "JAMIE! I HUGGED MIKE HANLON!"

"I KNOW, PETER! YOU HUGGED MIKE HANLON!" the other boy, Jamie, exclaimed.

***

Ben hesitated before knocking on the cabin door. He was nervous. No, _terrified_ was the better word for it. He knocked and waited. When no one opened the door, he knocked again. Still no answer. He hesitated once more, then opened the squeaky door. There were about five other boys inside, and across the walk-way behind him was the girls' cabin for instrumentalists (people who don't sing or just do instruments for more hardcore/pop or rock-like genres). The boys in the cabin turned to look at him.

"Was that you knocking?" one boy asked. Ben nodded. "You can just walk in, it's an open camp," the boy who had spoken said. Ben nodded again and mentally noted that.

Another boy walked toward him, twisting a The Clash t-shirt in his hands. "Do I know you from somewhere?" he asked.

"I'm Ben," Ben introduced himself, sticking out a hand.

"Nice to meet you Ben," the boy said, shaking Ben's hand. Then he smiled. "Ah, I know now. You're Hanscom! Ben Hanscom the YouTuber!"

"Yeah," Ben said, chuckling embarrassed-like, "I am."

"Awesome! Hey, I love your drum-covers of 'Cover Girl' by New Kids On The Block and The Goo Goo Dolls' 'No Way Out," the boy said.

"Thanks," Ben blushed. "And you are..."

"Call me Auggie," the boy said. Auggie smiled. Ben took in his appearance. He was shorter than Ben by a lot. He had light ginger-blond hair and was wearing a fedora and thick-rimmed black glasses. He had a very kind look in his eyes that made Ben feel like he could trust him. And his smile was very assuring.

"Okay, Auggie," Ben said, smiling. He had a feeling he and this boy were now friends.

***

Stan shut the door to the classical music's cabin and turned to see–

It seemingly was only him in the cabin.

"Shit," he said aloud to himself. He sighed and walked toward one of the bunks, toward the of the cabin, and began sorting everything away, tucking his bags and his violin case under the bed. He chose the bottom bunk so he would not have to risk falling off the top.

Over the intercom, a few minutes later, he heard the voice of Melody Moore:

_"ATTENTION CAMPERS: DINNER WILL BE IN TEN MINUTES, SO GET WITH THE REST OF YOUR CABIN MATES AND JOIN US! WE'RE HAVIN' PIZZA, Y'ALL."_

Stan looked to the door, seeing it swing open and a boy walked in with an instrument case and a bag. So Stan was not going to be alone! Awesome.

Little did Stanley know, this guy will cause a _bunk swap_ for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! There are moodboards for this on my tumblr (hypochondriac-and-a-trashmouth)


End file.
